bloodandhonorfandomcom-20200214-history
Event: Of Blood and Honor Part 9
Since I'm in the process of many updates to the overall story, I'm preparing to hit the climax of "Of Blood and Honor." Wait, don't fret. The story continues on with the next chapter, "Blood Harvest." I'm far from ready to close the book on the Strykia's and their cohorts. So here's the next stage, still climbing towards the ever-mounting build-up and climax to the first part of the ANTHOLOGY that will be known as "Bloodlines." Hopefully, it doesn't take me another two years to write the next one. Here's Dontaine. He's the black sheep of the Strykia family, and a little on the unstable side. But there is a dark intelligence there that's driving him, making him a threat. A real threat. I kind of feel like he's been a foil in some of the content portraying him after his fall to the Dark side. It's time to make him a legitimate threat again. Of Blood and Honor Part 9: Black Blood Reaper paced in front of the forward viewports of the Blacktooth. He watched the static discharge from inside the nearby nebula absently. For Reaper, the nebula held no interest for him. His mind was elsewhere. He was hunting and he didn’t need to distract himself with mundane things. The man who had once identified himself as Dontaine Strykia, now known only as Reaper, was filled with a mix of emotions. Anticipation was first and foremost. He felt that he was close to finding his twin siblings for the first time in over twenty years. How tall were they now? How much had they changed from the exuberant children he had known all those years ago? But with those thoughts came an overwhelming sense of jealousy. His youngest brother, Graydon, was now the heir to the High Seat of the Antrixian Commonwealth. Reaper had started a rebellion against his people in a quest to gain the High Seat from his father. In Reaper’s mind, the position was his and his alone. It was he who had killed Artur Strykia, and with the man’s death, his eldest son was heir to the High Seat. That was him. That was Reaper. Reaper’s hunt would conclude when he confronted his brother. Graydon would join him and serve him or he would die. Following Graydon would be Allyson. The choice would be the same for her. Reaper was almost certain that he’d finish this long-standing quest today. Where Graydon was, that’s where he’d find Allyson also. The twins were rarely apart growing up. He hoped that hadn’t changed. If neither of the twins would convert to serve him though, he had a choice for a new apprentice. The young Human female he’d captured on Mon Gazza could be his new student. He had sensed some natural Force talent in her. She was still young enough to be malleable and influenced into his way of thinking. Then, when he was old enough, Rhaygar, his infant son, could be raised and trained to succeed him. Reaper looked over his shoulder to see two T’stayans dragging the body of a Vian off the bridge. The Vian had been arrogant enough to believe he knew what was best for navigating the Blacktooth to this sector of the galaxy. It was that arrogance that had cost him his life. By dropping the ship out of hyperspace too far away from the coordinates, stating that they could get long range sensor readings before initiating their attack, the Vian had shown disloyalty. Reaper wouldn’t tolerate that. That meant death. “My Lord,” Came the voice of Reaper’s second-in-command, Kurzon Xingus, from behind him. “Long-range sensors are showing nothing. Shall I launch fighters to scout out further in the area?” “No.” Reaper responded. “If my brother and sister were near, I would have sensed them.” “I await your orders then, Lord Reaper.” Kurzon said with a bow of his head. “We will hold here, for the moment.” Reaper turned to address his subordinate. “I have a surprise awaiting us. Until then, I believe I need to question the woman we captured when we retrieved Rhaygar from the traitors.” ---- The small chamber in which Zena Dystraay was being held in was more than a prison cell, but less than spartan quarters. At least she had a bed to sleep on, even if it was no more than a mattress with a blanket. She had traveled in worse during her trip from the Expansion Region to the Outer Rim. The one thing she truly wanted right then was a refresher. It had been at least five days since she’d been able to freshen up, being kept locked in this room. But whoever her captors were, they had fed her. She had started to count the days by the meals brought to her. The masked man that had kidnapped her on Mon Gazza hadn’t been here to interrogate her since she was thrown to the hulking aliens as they boarded a shuttle back on the shadowport. For that matter, she’d only seen those big aliens since she was taken from the shuttle, through a hanger on board a ship, and then dumped in here like a stack of bad Durran fruit. In a way, Zena was relieved. It meant that the masked man wasn’t an Imperial Inquisitor, come to finally arrest her or kill her for the little stunt she pulled back in the Tapani Sector. It was meant as nothing more than a prank. Being in one of the starports, Zena and two of her friends watched a Rodian push his way past a couple of passer-bys, knocking one down. She laughed at the poor soul that had been knocked down. Then one of her friends had dared her to go teach the Rodian some manners. Having her Lightfoil in hand, Zena accepted the dare and went with the first thing that came to mind. Flipping up the cowl on her silver cloak, Zena had followed the Rodian down one of the lanes in the starport. Once they were in a less crowded area, she ignited her Lightfoil, tripped the taper-snouted alien, and then threatened him with the Lightfoil bare inches from his face. She told the alien that she was an Inquisitor, the only person she knew that could carry an energy blade around in this day and age. While she had threatened the alien, she didn’t harm him. All that was injured was his pride. She had simply told him that he needed to be more polite and watch his back; otherwise he’d end up in Kessel. She said that she would see to it personally. Then she had walked back to her friends, laughing. Apparently, the Rodian had tailed her and then reported her. Soon, she found herself pursued by Stormtroopers, wanted for impersonating an Imperial official. Without much thought or planning, she’d stowed away on a freighter and now, many months later, this is where she was. If she could learn to keep her smart mouth shut, she could probably live a normal life. At least a better life than the one she was living now. Fearful of what was going to happen next, the only thing Zena could do was sit and wait. Waiting for what the future held put a pit of dread in her stomach. Overall, she feared that she was going to be killed or worse, sold into slavery. As a wanted individual, no one would even question why a human was the slave of a Hutt or worse. She’d heard the stories. The things that she would be made to do as a slave made her skin crawl. Maybe death was the better alternative. ---- Reaper stood outside the door to the small supply room that had been turned into a makeshift cell for the girl he had captured on Mon Gazza. He stared at the door, waiting. He could almost smell the fear coming off the girl inside. That was good. Her fear could be a powerfully persuasive tool right now. If he could show her how to conquer her fear, then he could sway her over to the Dark side easily. And if he continued to use that fear as a tool, a leverage used in his favor, he could keep her in check. Motioning to the T’stayan guard, Reaper stepped in to the small chamber as the doors split and slid open. He stopped just inside, fixing his gaze on the young woman, barely out of her teen years. She sat silently watching him, waiting. There was a slight tremble to her, but otherwise she appeared to be in control of herself. Reaper could still smell the fear coming off of her, stronger in here than it was outside. She was ripe for the picking, perfect for the plan he had in mind. “Do you know who I am?” He asked, his vocorder-aided voice echoed off the walls in the small chamber. “No.” It was a simple response. “I am the Lord of the Antrixian Commonwealth, known as Reaper.” He straightened to his absolute height, proudly holding his head high. “You’re not an Imperial?” The girl asked, fear in her voice still, but visibly relaxing some. “No. I would not defile my honor by allying with such scum.” The disgust was thick in his voice as he spoke. “Why am I here?” “Call it fate, girl. I initially took you captive as insurance to keep the traitors at bay. You were my collateral, meant to keep those that oppose my power from pursuing me. But I sense something special in you. There is a reason to why you are still alive.” “I’d rather die than be sold into slavery.” Zena said, trying to sound as brave as she could. “Do you think that is why you are here, still alive?” Reaper asked. “I don’t want to be a slave. I think that’s why I’m still alive and not dead. You’re going to sell me.” She answered. “I’m not going to sell you, girl. If I was, you would be gone already. There is potential in you.” “Potential? I've never been worth anything to anyone. I’m going to be dead sooner or later.” “You have a rare gift in this day and age.” Reaper calmly stated. “You have the ability to touch the Force, like the legends of the past.” “If that’s true, then I’m really going to die.” Zena said back. “If you want to live, perhaps you should follow me.” “Follow you?” “Yes. Be my apprentice. Then you won’t worry about death. You’ll be death. You can become my hand of death.” “It’s that easy?” “With me, it will be.” “But how?” Zena asked. “I will train you in the ways of the Force.” Reaper answered. “I will show you how to use your potential. I will show you how to tap into your fear so that eventually, you won’t fear death. You will deliver your fear onto others, making them fear you instead. You will be someone. You will have a destiny and power; the power over your fear that you deserve to have.” “If this is true, then how can I resist?” ---- (This section is under heavy construction.) Just outside the Manchi Sector in the Mid Rim territories, the old S11 Star yacht docked with the much larger luxury yacht that had just arrived from the Inner Rim region. Once the cotterdam was in place, a few members of the group known as the Cliq made their way across to the larger ship owned by the man known as John Baptist Emmanuelle Zorg. In the Cliq’s possession was a special cargo specifically procured by Zorg for his upcoming plans. Also in their hands was a tidbit of information which Zorg would find interesting and useful. “What is that?” Miranda asked as the droid, Brunt, set down the cage on Zorg’s desk. “That, my dear, is a curious little animal called an Ysalimari.” Zorg responded as he reached inside to gently caress the lizard-like animal. “They are very hard to come by off their home planet.” “How much did you pay Tyber Zann for that?” Nacore asked. “Enough.” Zorg replied. “But the price is right for what this little blessing is going to do for me.” “Your own protection against Force-users?” Alex Nacore asked again, knowing what the Ysalimari was capable of from his time on Myrkr. “Right you are, my friend. I had the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with a Jedi years ago, back when they still flitted about the galaxy. Since the encounter with the Jedi, Verkaik, I dislike people that can get in my head without my consent.” Zorg answered. “So then, let’s get down to business.” “Where shall I start?” “Why don’t you tell me the story of the man I sent you to spy on.” “The man is known as Reaper, that much I found.” Alex answered. “He’s apparently a Force-user, just like we had heard. Also, it appears that he’s an Antrixian. Possibly a noble that was exiled by the Imperials. Somehow I doubt that since Inquisitor Harkness hunted down all the Force-users there.” “So this man… This Reaper. He’s Antrixian?” Zorg asked, all too casually. “I believe so.” Nacore responded. “He’s got quite the ego, too. He claims some leadership status among the Antrixians.” “An Antrixian, how quaint.” Zorg said with a smug smile as he turned towards Shasharra. “Azabeth, dear: Any chance he’s one of your kinfolk?” “Not likely, Mr. Zorg.” Shashara responded, acknowledging Zorg by her assumed name. “But I can’t say for sure.” “Oh that’s right, you weren’t raised around a lot of your family. Such a shame. If he was a relation, then perhaps you could help bring him over to our point of view. Into the fold, so to speak. Maybe with a few more resources, I’d actually get the items you’re supposed to be finding for me.” “The truth be told, we may be able to use this man to accomplish the goal of finding the Stones, Zorg.” Nacore added, cutting Zorg off before he could belittle Shasharra much more. “We could, but I’m worried that the stones may be important enough to him that he might be willing to martyr himself to have them.” “I might add that he also claims to be a Jedi or what were they called… A Jinsai?” Nacore added. “They’re said to be quite honorable, or at least maintain a sense of right and wrong above our normal associates. The Jinsai were supposed to be quite the warriors before they were wiped out.” “I don't like the honor-bound warriors. They’re too narrow-minded, almost no subtlety. And worse, they fight for the hopeless cause. Honor? Hmmm. Honor's killed millions of people, it hasn't saved anyone. I’ll tell you what I do like though: a killer. A dyed-in-the-wool, cold-blooded killer. Clean, methodical and thorough. That’s why I have this nice little group right here.” Zorg sat back and smiled a quaint smile as he took in the group in front of him. “If we were to recover the stones and he dies because of it, is that a problem?” Nacore asked. “Not for us, it’s not.” Zorg smiled slyly. “It’s just an observation.” “How do you want us to proceed?” “Go be friends with Mr. Reaper. Be happy and make him happy. He wants the stones and so do we. There’s the whole of our business partnership with this man. Once we get to a place where our business concerns are secured, I think we need to rid ourselves of commodities that are, how shall I put this, troublesome.” At that time, the door to the stateroom open, admitting five large aliens into the room. These aliens were hairless, with muscled bodies, wearing some type of battlesuits that allowed freedom of movement. Their black eyes were cold, looking for a fight wherever they might find it. Their long ears stuck out from the sides of their hairless heads, tapered to points. While they might look dangerous, they also looked less than intelligent. Alex Nacore took in their presence, but sneered at their sudden appearance. He knew what they were. Mangalores. The trash of the mercenary world. Alex knew that while the Mangalores were handy in a fight, he also knew that they were the first to flee when the situation turned against them. They were bullies that couldn’t stand up against a true challenge. “My dear Agnott.” Zorg said as he stood to welcome the newcomers. “I’m so glad you could join us.” “You called, we come.” The lead alien responded. “As I knew you would. Now then, I’ve got a job for you and your fellow patriots.” ---- Continue Reading Category:Events